


Concentric

by Cheloya



Category: X -エックス- | X/1999
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-27 06:57:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10804107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheloya/pseuds/Cheloya
Summary: Old, imported. Kishuu Arashii was old when the boy came to visit her temple.





	Concentric

Kishuu Arashii was old when the boy came to visit her temple - older than any of them had ever expected her to be. She moved more slowly, now, but still with confidence, still with a serious expression - though the glare that had once been a permanent flash in her eyes had gentled some over the years.

She was old when the boy came to visit her temple for the first time, but she had never forgotten the feel of that soul - she would never forget. She had felt him enter the grounds of her shrine, and she had stood near the great bell and waited, wondering if perhaps, at last, it was her time to move along.

He was younger than he had been the last time - only twelve or thirteen. He strolled up the stairs, eyes fixed with interest on the statues and lanterns, and when he saw her standing there, he gave her a little wave.

"Hello," he greeted her, and bowed. His eyes were the wrong colour, but they held a familiar smile. She made to return the courtesy, but he raised his hands in alarm. "Hey, no way. You're the shrine mistress - you don't have to bow to anyone."

She smiled at him gently, and commented that usually, boys his age expected to receive bows from everyone, including their own mothers. He grinned a little at that, but as quickly as he used to, he shifted from laughter to sobriety.

"I don't know why I remember you," he told her. "But I think I do."

"I should hope so," she returned wryly, folding her hands in her lap. He looked sheepish.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too," he muttered. His brow furrowed, eyes going distant as he sought for a name within his memories, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. At last he looked up, helpless.

"I don't remember," he confessed. Eyebrows raised appealingly, he cocked his head at her. "But I don't want to keep on not-knowing the name of such a pretty obaa-san." And there was the grin, wider and cheekier than ever; the grin that made her heart ache. "Will you tell me again?"


End file.
